Draco Malfoy Unwrapped
by nicevenn
Summary: "He's like an exquisite sweet, protected by so many layers of wrapping that no one's ever had the patience to get him naked. But I'm Harry Potter, dammit, and I want him for dessert."  OOC Harry. This fic is completed, and will be updated daily.
1. Prologue

Another late night at the office. My eyes are itchy and burning. I laugh to myself when I realize how naïve I used to be, thinking there wouldn't be anything left for Aurors to do once Voldemort and his Death Eaters were gone. My coworker sends me a glare from his desk. His name is Draco Malfoy. Yes, that Draco Malfoy— there's only one. I don't know why he chose this job. He doesn't exactly share his secrets with me, or anyone else for that matter.

I look away, too tired to spit insults back and forth like we often do. He must be tired too, or else he would have suggested that I check myself into St. Mungo's, because normal people don't laugh to themselves. I look again. He's reading something, eyebrows scrunched together, dark circles under his eyes. That's not surprising— we've all been working overtime these past few days. He should get some sleep, I think, but I can't imagine him in bed without coming up with various activities to keep him awake.

Someone's knocking at the door.

"Come in," I say.

Ron walks up to my desk, his mouth wide open in a yawn as he hands me a thick yellow folder. "Here's the Brown file," he mumbles sleepily.

"Oh, thanks." I've been wondering where it went.

"I'm going home," Ron announces. "You should, too. You look tired."

"What? Oh— yeah I'm just finishing up here." Damn, he caught me watching Draco again. He shakes his head and walks out of the office, saying goodnight to Draco as he passes by his desk.

"Night," Draco mutters.

Draco can be civil when he wants to be, but he's still a prat at heart. I wish he'd undo the button beneath his collar, and the one below that…

I'm not sure when I started to fancy him, but it was on New Year's Eve that I first realized how goddamn gorgeous he is. One of our coworkers threw a party at his flat, and Malfoy actually came. His arrival shocked everyone because he never comes to parties, although he's always invited, if only out of politeness. He mostly kept to himself, as he always does. But to everyone's surprise, he agreed to take part in a Muggle drinking game called "I have never" that we'd decided to play. To make it more interesting, we each took a drop of Veritaserum. The game quickly took a sexual turn. Some people drank after every statement, some drank less, but Draco barely drank anything at all. Then Matilda, a friend of Ginny's, announced that she'd never had sex. Of course everyone downed a shot of firewhisky to that, except Draco. He got embarrassed and left the party soon after, but I couldn't stop thinking about him that night. How could someone that good-looking still be a virgin at twenty-two?

There was something so erotic about the thought of that pale skin still being untouched. I imagined myself sliding my hand down his smooth torso, hooking a finger under the waistband of his trousers and pulling him closer. Merlin, how my cock liked that picture.

I was too shy to do anything about my desire— this was Draco Malfoy, after all. But I did start keeping a closer eye on his interactions. I've seen him approached by a few people, both women and men, but he turned them all down.

He guards his virginity like a dragon guards his treasure. Why, I have no idea. But I'm tempted to grab my wand and go on an adventure.

He's standing up and packing his things. I want to go home with him, but I don't have the guts to say anything. Not anything of that sort. I watch his arse as he makes his way towards the door. He's like an exquisite sweet, protected by so many layers of wrapping that no one's ever had the patience to get him naked. But I'm Harry Potter, dammit, and I want him for dessert.


	2. Chapter 1

Note: The Browns mentioned in this chapter aren't related to Lavender Brown.

Unlike Draco, I'm not a virgin at 22. In fact, my name and the word virgin probably shouldn't be used in the same sentence. I didn't always sleep around, though. For as long as Voldemort was a threat to the wizarding world, I hardly had time to think about sex, let alone have it.

Ginny was my first. We resumed our relationship soon after the war ended, but it didn't last very long. One time was all it took before I realised that women just didn't do it for me. I wanted to feel a hard body, not those soft breasts pressed up against me. At first, I was worried that it might be difficult to find a boyfriend, but I soon learned that everyone— I look over at Draco—well, almost everyone,

wanted a taste of Harry Potter.

Since then, I've been rather busy. It's not that I'm afraid of commitment. I just happen to like variety. Every man has his own, unique way of kissing. Some like the sex rough; others like it slow and gentle. Some are shy and quiet; others voice their pleasure openly.

Whenever I see an attractive bloke, I imagine what he might be like in bed. Then I take him home and explore his body, finding all the places that make him beg for more. If I like him, I might meet him a few more times before moving on to the next one. The change keeps sex interesting.

Great. Now my trousers are starting to feel tight. I really shouldn't be thinking about sex on the job.

"Harry, have you been writing this down?" Draco glares accusingly at me.

Thankfully, the notepad resting on my lap is hiding my erection. "Er... yeah."

He knows I haven't written anything down, but he lets it go and turns his mercuric eyes back to Mrs Brown.

"As soon as we have any new information, we'll let you know," Draco tells her. "In the meantime, if you think of anything that might help us get to the bottom of this, send me an owl."

"I certainly will," says Mrs Brown, more interested in picking up our empty teacups than the conversation. "Thank you for coming."

Draco offers her an encouraging smile and turns to leave. "Come, Potter," he says as he walks past me.

_I'll come for you_, I think as I follow him out the front door.

It feels good to step out into the cool air after sitting in that stuffy house for nearly an hour.

"You didn't write down a word that woman said!" Draco accuses me before I can take a deep breath.

"She didn't say anything worth writing down." That's a lie. Actually, I barely even heard a word she said.

Draco shakes his head. "I knew I should have brought my Quick-Notes Quill," he mutters under his breath before we Apparate back to London.

He doesn't say another word until we step into the lift at the Ministry. "She seems odd, doesn't she?" he asks, brows scrunched together slightly.

"Who?"

"Mrs Brown." His voice is dripping with forced patience.

I shrug, looking down to hide my embarrassment at neglecting my duty as an Auror. It's just so difficult to concentrate on my work when he's around. I'd better get a handle on that. He's my partner now, so he'll be around a lot.

"She just seems too calm and disinterested for a woman whose husband has gone missing," says Draco.

"People react in different ways," I say.

The lift stops at the second level. We get off and walk past the cubicles covered with pictures and posters to our separate office. "Harry!" Someone calls from across the room, but I pretend not to hear. I can't let Draco leave before I've asked him out.

When I close the door to our office and turn around, he's already packing his things. If I don't ask him now, I'll have to wait until tomorrow. Again. This has been going on for weeks.

"Er… Draco?"

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the piece of parchment he's examining. I realize that I've stuffed my hands into my pockets, like I always do when I'm nervous. I remember Hermione telling me it's bad body language, so I pull them out and feel stupid afterwards, because Draco happened to choose that exact moment to look up.

"Do you want to go out for drinks or something?"

He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. My stomach is doing back flips.

"Who else is going?"

"No one. Just me and, hopefully, you.

He hides a grin as he leans back in his chair. "Are you asking me out on a date, Potter?"

"I guess you could call it that."

Shit, he's not saying anything. I hope he doesn't burst out laughing—I'd die right here and now.

"Any particular place you have in mind?" he finally asks.

Merlin, what a relief. But that still isn't a yes, is it?

"How about Babalou?"

His eyes are searching mine. What's he looking for?

"All right," he says.

Now I'm beaming like an idiot. "Great. What time should I—?"

"Be there at eleven," he says as he brushes past me on his way out.

My arm tingles where his body came in contact with it. I mouth a silent "Yes!" and plop down into my leather office chair with a smile on my face. That was easier than I thought.


	3. Chapter 2

It's a quarter past eleven. I should have known he wouldn't come. He'll probably laugh at me tomorrow for actually believing he'd go on a date with me. "Your conceitedness knows no bounds, Potter," he'll drawl.

My fingers tap the wooden table impatiently. Should I go? Maybe I should give him a few more minutes. He could be running late. A dark, handsome bloke across the room is sending me looks. Not bad. Maybe if Draco doesn't show up, I can take him home instead.

"Looking for me?" a familiar bored voice asks.

Damn, I hope he didn't realise I was appraising that other man.

"As a matter of fact, I was."

He looks gorgeous in his faded grey jeans and shimmery green button-down shirt. His hair is slicked back, as usual. I actually hoped he'd skip the gel tonight—there's nothing sexier than soft, tousled blond hair in bed. He takes the seat across from me and looks around.

"Interesting choice of place," he says.

"I thought you'd like it."

Babalou has a unique atmosphere. The bar is located in the crypt of an old church. I don't really know what Draco likes, but I thought it might appeal to him.

"I never said I didn't." He picks up the menu. "Shall we order?"

I watch his eyes as he skims the list of available drinks.

"What are you having?" I ask when he puts the drinks menu down.

"Dee Monk. You?"

I open my mouth to answer, but just then the waitress comes to take our order. "One Between the Sheets," I say, watching Draco's reaction. He narrows his eyes at the wall, and pretends I'm not there.

"So, how's work?" Okay, that was a pathetic attempt at conversation, but I feel so tongue-tied around him.

He looks at me like I'm retarded. "We were just there." He raises an eyebrow. "We're partners, remember?"

I sink lower in my seat. This is proving more difficult than I thought. "Yes, I remember."

Now he's just sitting there, staring at his lap while we wait for our drinks. Why did he even agree to this date? He obviously doesn't want to be here.

"Why'd you ask me out?" His voice is so quiet that I can't be sure I heard him.

Why the bloody hell does he think I asked him out? "Because I'm attracted to you." I can actually feel my cheeks burning. Wow, that hasn't happened in years.

His face falls. "Is that the only reason?"

"No," I say. "I also thought it'd be interesting to get together and talk a bit. We've shared an office for a year now, and we barely know each other."

He smiles shyly. I think it might be the first genuine smile I've ever seen on his face. It looks good.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

The waitress returns with our drinks. We thank her before she leaves, and then we each take a sip.

"How is it?" I ask.

"It's—different. Not bad, though." He doesn't look convinced.

"You should try what I'm having."

He narrows his eyes again. "No thanks."

We slowly resume our chit chat, and I can't help but feel like a bore. I'd like to impress him, but I'm not sure that I can. Whatever opinion he's formed of me over the years isn't likely to change in one evening, even if I do manage to say something witty.

As soon as we finish our drinks, I take the opportunity to ask him to dance. That's one thing I can actually do, though it took me endless hours and countless nights spent hitting the clubs to finally get the hang of it. Surprisingly, he agrees.

I don't know the song that's playing, but it has a nice rhythm. I lead him onto the floor and pull him close, but not so close as to send him the wrong message.

He's a bit shy at first, but soon he begins to move as well as any of them. As time passes, I can feel his body beginning to press more insistently against mine. I drink in the sight of him—his eyes fluttering, his face flushed. Forgetting any inhibitions I may have had about moving too fast, I plant my lips on his and slip my tongue into his mouth when he gasps in surprise.

I can't hear his moan, but I can feel it vibrating on my lips. Every movement of his tongue against mine sends a jolt to my cock. I know he's enjoying this, too, because his erection is rubbing against my hip. This is the point when I usually take my dancing partner home and move our activities to the bedroom. Something inside me says I shouldn't do the same thing with him as I've done with countless others, but I want him so much. The skin of his neck is like satin, and I suck it hungrily in between my lips.

Suddenly he pulls away and disappears into the crowd. I assume he's heading for the door and head in that direction. By the time I catch up to him, he's outside, looking for a secluded spot to Disapparate.

I grab his arm. "What's wrong? Why'd you leave like that?"

Heaving a sigh, he turns to look at me, his lips formed into a frown. "Harry, I don't want to be another name for you to cross off of your list."

"What?" That was a stupid question- I know exactly what he's talking about.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," says Draco.

How do I respond to that? "There's no list, Draco."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, well I suppose that makes everything better. Let's go back to your place, then." The sarcasm in his voice pierces my chest like a dagger. But I'm defenseless. As much as I'd like to say that I didn't ask him out with the intention of ending the date in bed, it just isn't true.

"Draco, I'm sorry-"

He looks away. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you at work."

I nod. At this point, there's nothing I can do to save myself. "Yeah, see you."

He Disapparates, leaving me alone in the churchyard to contemplate my mistakes. Merlin, I've really screwed this up.


	4. Chapter 3

For the first time in my life, I'm glad the weekend is finally over. As I make my way to the Aurors' Office, my eyes are constantly on the lookout for a head of white-blond hair standing out amongst the masses of black, brown and dirty blonde, but I don't see it. Maybe Draco is already at his desk. My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of seeing him again. What am I going to say?

Friday night, I Apparated home after he stormed out of the club and left me alone in the churchyard. A meaningless shag with some random bloke no longer seemed appealing, not after I had come so close to taking Draco home with me. I stayed in for the rest of the weekend, taking an occasional break from moping to rub one off while thinking about him sprawled out naked on my bed. If only I hadn't rushed him, I'd still have hope for making that picture a reality.

No, scratch that. I still have hope. It's just going to take more persistence than I originally thought.

I pause in front of the door to our office, mentally rehearsing a list of different things I could say, depending on his mood. It probably won't help, though—I'll still get tongue-tied at the sight of him and start babbling like an idiot.

I take a deep breath and turn the doorknob.

Damn. He's not here yet.

There's a sinking feeling in my stomach as I consider the possibility that he might not show up for work today. I know that he can't avoid me forever; but still, the thought of not seeing him for yet another day makes me want to go home and crawl back into bed, miserable.

As I walk over to my desk, I notice two paper airplanes hovering above it. I grab one of them and unfold it.

_Harry,_

_We need to talk. Meet Ron and me for lunch in the cafeteria. _

_Hermione_

I crumple the note with a sigh and toss it into the wastebasket. Ron must have told Hermione that I went out with Draco. Now she's going to give me a lecture about not dating people I work with.

As I am sitting down in my chair, the second airplane darts back and forth impatiently. I snatch it out of the air and unfold it, too.

_Potter,_

_I've gone to check out a new lead regarding the Brown case. Time was of essence, so I didn't want to waste it waiting for you to finally show up. Don't worry, though, I can handle it on my own._

_DM_

I glance at the clock. What does he mean, 'finally show up?' I'm actually three minutes early today. Well, I guess that's what I get for being late every day. Still, he shouldn't be trying to solve cases without me. I know I haven't been much help lately, as my mind can't seem to function properly when Draco is around, but he's not supposed to be going off on his own. What if he needs backup? If something goes wrong, we'll both be in for it.

I smooth out the creases in the note, thinking about Draco's pristine fingertips folding the paper. A shiver runs through me as I imagine them touching me. Reluctantly, I push the note to the corner of my desk and turn my attention to the stacks of papers in front of me. This is the part of my job that I hate.

Minutes drag by like hours as I busy myself with the tedious task of filling out paperwork. By the time the clock strikes twelve, Draco still hasn't returned, so I finish up what I'm doing and go to meet Hermione and Ron for lunch.

While I wait in the queue to order, I spot them having an animated conversation at a table in the corner of the canteen. Once I've paid and received my bowl of tomato soup, I go join them. Hermione starts yelling at me when I'm still a few feet away from the table, starling me.

"What did you do to Malfoy?"

Startled, I jerk back, and some of my soup spills over onto the plate beneath it. I set it down carefully.

"I didn't do anything to him!" I suck my soup-covered thumb into my mouth, glaring at Ron for telling Hermione about my date with Draco. He shrugs and looks down at the floor.

"Well, if his behaviour this morning is any indication, you must have done _something._"

"Why, what did he do?" I ask, dipping bread into my soup.

Ron scoots his chair closer and leans toward me. "When he came in today, he went straight to Robards's office. Hermione overheard him saying he needs a new partner because he can't work with you. When Robards refused, Malfoy stormed out and shut himself in his office." He pauses to take a bite of his roll. "That's when the lead supposedly came in. Malfoy all but ran out. We tried to tell him he should wait for you, but he came up with every excuse in the world as to why that wasn't a good idea."

The soup doesn't look appetising anymore, so I push the plate away. "He's trying to avoid me."

"As if that wasn't obvious," Hermione says. "The question is: Why is he avoiding you?"

I sigh and lean back in my chair. "Our date didn't end well Friday night. We were getting along all right until we started dancing. Then things heated up and he ran out. He said he didn't want to be another name for me to cross off of my list."

Hermione stares at the table, shaking her head. "I told you before that wasn't a good idea to date within the workplace."

"What about you and Ron?" I ask defensively.

"That's different. Ron and I were a couple before we started working together."

I can see her logic, but it doesn't appeal to me, not if it means Draco is off-limits. "It isn't entirely my fault. If Draco didn't guard his virginity like a teenage girl, everything would be fine."

"He has a point," says Ron.

The aroma of cooked tomatoes and basil makes my stomach grumble, but just as I pull the plate closer again, another paper airplane stops right in front of my face.

"What's with these today?" I ask, unfolding it impatiently.

My heart stops beating as I read Robards's note.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asks.

"Draco's hurt. He's been brought to St. Mungo's." I push back my chair and stand up.

"What happened?" Hermione asks, trying to keep up with me as I rush out of the cafeteria. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know."


	5. Chapter 4

I want to punch him in that infuriatingly straight nose. On my way here, to St. Mungo's, I was ready to forgive Draco any measure of stupidity. All I wanted was to know that he'd be all right, but now that I know his "injury" consists of nothing more than a pair of fairy wings, I'd like to kill him.

"What were you thinking?" I ask the git.

He sighs and starts to lean back, but bounces forward again when the edge of a green wing touches the back of his chair.

"I told you, I thought I could handle it. And I was right… in a way. Evangelina Brown isn't dangerous at all. I just wasn't prepared for how careless she is with her… experiments."

I nod slowly, making a mental note to ask for more details about the case later. "So this has nothing to do with what happened Friday?"

He shakes his head, but his cheeks flush a rosy pink. Obviously he's lying.

"Good, because that would have been idiotic, and not to mention, unprofessional."

"That it would," he says.

Wow, that's a first. He's never agreed with me about anything before.

He looks at me for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "Harry, I've been thinking—"

"Yes?"

He rubs away an imaginary scuff mark with his shoe. "Well, you obviously want to get into my pants, and I'm a bit embarrassed to admit my lack of experience—maybe we can make a deal."

I must say that I like his train of thought. "And what kind of deal did you have in mind?"

He takes another deep breath and his eyes meet mine. "Let's shag."

Even though I'd been expecting him to say something of that sort, I feel lightheaded with elation.

"Just this once," Draco adds, "no strings attached. I'll get that first time out of the way, and you can cross me off your list and move on to the next name."

There is no list, but I don't bother pointing that out again. This might be my only remaining chance at getting a piece of that ass.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" I ask. "It sounds very…formal."

He nods. "It does, but it's the only condition under which I'll sleep with you. There isn't any sense in deluding myself into believing you might want a real relationship."

He looks up at me then, as if expecting me to argue, but I don't. I'd like to assure him that I do want more—I feel differently about him than I have about any of my previous conquests— but I myself can't be sure that won't change once we've been together. I haven't been in a relationship since Ginny and I broke up.

His face falls slightly, but he masks his disappointment with a smile. "We'll have to wait until these stupid wings are gone."

I laugh. "Of course."

The silence that follows becomes uncomfortable, so I ask about the case. He says a neighbour had reported unusual activity at the Brown home and suspected that Evangelina might have had something to do with her husband's disappearance. The good news is that she was guilty of nothing more than irresponsible attempts at performing faerie magic; the bad news is that we're now back to where we started.

When he's done recounting his adventure, we exchange an awkward goodbye and I take my leave. There's an obvious bounce in my step as I walk down the hallway of the fourth floor. I spot a lime green-robed Healer near the lift and grab his sleeve.

"Make sure you have the best team possible working to reverse Auror Malfoy's condition," I tell him.

His eyes stop linger on my scar for a moment and he blushes. "I'll make certain of it."


	6. Chapter 5

Leave it to Draco Malfoy to demand we get straight to business. I did not spend the last half hour preparing dinner so he could remind me that this is not a date. Granted, it isn't the multicourse meal of the type he's probably used to, but I do make a mean prawn Alfredo. I shrug at his tight-lipped mien and set the bowl of pasta on the table.

"You don't have to eat if you don't want to, but I'm hungry— and I'm going to need the energy." I send him a wink and he blushes.

As he reluctantly takes his seat, I open up a bottle of Chardonnay and fill our glasses. Something tells me that, as a Malfoy, he has probably been taught to savour his wine, to sip it delicately, but he reaches for it right away and drains a third of the golden liquid in one go. I hide a smirk as I put the bottle down. _Nervous, is he?_

My stomach grumbles at the sight and smell of the Alfredo. I lift my fork and twirl some fettuccini around it, pretending to be oblivious to the anxiety emanating from him, but I do take note when he finally takes a deep breath and begins to eat. I watch the way his pink mouth closes around his fork and I feel a surge of heat travel south. My stomach begins to form into a knot and I avert my gaze, turning my attention back to the pasta on my plate. I don't recall anyone ever having such a strong effect on me.

As the wine continues to flow, we loosen up a bit, but the heat and tension rise until finally we stumble into my bedroom, heads buzzing and cocks rubbing together through too many layers of cloth. His mouth is hot and welcoming and surprisingly submissive. I guide him backwards onto the bed and cover his body with my own. He is bucking against me, hands gripping my arse and pulling me closer.

My kisses are sloppy, impatient and wet. I can't decide where my mouth should linger. Why can't I be everywhere at once? I pull back to unbutton his shirt and toss it aside. Then I hook my fingers under the band of his trousers and give them a tug, watching for his reaction. He observes me with softly parted lips, a strand of blond hair coming loose from the gelled-back style and falling in his eyes. Seeing no resistance, I unbutton his trousers and pull them off.

_Oh. Fuck._ He's absolutely stunning. I feel like _I'm_ the virgin, worrying whether I'll be able to please the Adonis leaning back on his elbows on my bed, his pale cock rising up from a base of golden curls to rest against his belly . _Oh well, best not to focus on my insecurities_. I fight to ignore the tightness in my throat as I take off my clothes and reclaim my position between his legs.

I cover his mouth with my lips again, caressing his tongue with my own before kissing a trail down his neck and torso. He gasps when I dip my tongue into his navel and raises his head to watch me close the distance to his cock. I meet his gaze as my lips hover over the head and he swallows hard.

The musky smell overwhelms my senses as I take the tip of his dick into my mouth. His head falls back on contact and he releases a pent-up breath. Groaning at the bitter-salty taste on my tongue, I begin to roll his balls in my hand as I take him deeper in my throat and work up a rhythm.

He shifts, spreading his legs a bit wider, and that's my cue to take the next step. Slowly I move a single finger down to the smooth skin behind his balls. He tenses for only a moment until I increase the suction on his cock and wiggle my tongue along its length. Sliding my fingertip lower still, I press it against his puckered hole, nudging and circling but not pushing past the velvety skin. He tightens his grip on my hair, breathing harshly, and I'm reluctant to abandon him even for the few seconds it takes to _Accio_ the lube and spread it over my fingers.

Stroking his cock firmly to distract him, I bring a now-slick fingertip to his entrance and push inside. He lets out a shuddering breath as I push past the tight ring of muscle and my finger glides in the rest of the way. His passage is so tight and hot it makes my dick twitch. I place kisses along his shaft as I begin to push my finger in and out of him, angling for his prostate. Once he starts moaning and muttering appreciative nonsense, I add a second finger and begin to stretch him. I make quick work of it because there's an unbearable ache in my groin; by the sound of it, he can't wait anymore, either.

"Just do it," he says breathlessly, spreading his legs wider in invitation.

_Who could refuse?_

I pop open the bottle of lube again and slather it onto my cock. He's so accommodating, so willing—in contrast to how he behaves in every other situation— as he raises his legs over my shoulders; it's a privilege to be the first to witness it. I want to be the only person to ever witness it. No one else should have the right to see a Malfoy like this.

I thrust forward, sheathing myself inside him in one unforgiving stroke. His grimace makes it clear he hates me for it, but he'll forgive me soon enough. I make certain of it by tilting my hips to hit that spot that makes him lose his inhibitions and cry out loud. Fuck, he's tight. I know I won't last long, so I build up a rhythm quickly and start stroking his cock in time. His lips are still red, swollen from our earlier kisses; I can't resist leaning in for another. He buries his hand in my hair and moans into my mouth, the vibrations going straight to my prick. When I pull back, his lips are shiny with saliva. The sight alone is enough to push me closer to the edge.

"Come with me, Draco," I say, tightening my grip on his cock and stroking faster. I'm pounding into him so hard now; the sound of our skin smacking together sends a thrill through my veins. My balls draw up as the pressure reaches its height and then I'm coming, biting into his shoulder as my orgasm rips through me.

His hand joins mine on his cock because I've obviously forgotten to keep stroking. He tenses, back arching, and gives a strangled moan. Suddenly there's warmth splattering my belly and flowing over my hand. I can't help but kiss him again as I languidly thrust into him one last time, but he's not very responsive. I don't blame him.

"Fuck," he whispers, still breathing hard as I pull out and lie down next to him.

My lips curl. "See what you've been missing?"

He doesn't answer, but I'm not fussed. Clearly he enjoyed it. But was it enough to keep him coming back for more?


	7. Chapter 6

My hand slams down on the snooze button before the alarm clock makes a full sound. I must have subconsciously remained aware of Draco's presence throughout the night, because even though I'm barely awake, I feel that tightness in my throat that seems to come whenever I'm around him or think about him. Groaning sleepily, I turn onto my other side, eager to sling an arm around him and breathe in his scent. I've been fantasising about this moment for a long time.

Unfortunately my arm encounters nothing but cool sheets over a flat mattress. _Fuck_. He must have woken up early and left before I could stop him. I snort angrily into the pillow, resolving to wallow in self-pity until there's barely enough time to make it to work, when the sound of the shower turning on catches my attention.

I raise myself on my elbows and look at the closed door to the bathroom, smiling. _So he's making himself at home. That's good. Very good, actually. _

I don't bother putting on my glasses—they'd just get wet in the shower, but I do reach for the lube we used last night and give myself a quick stretch. Surely he won't be able to resist if I come prepared. By the time I'm done, my cock is standing at full attention.

Draco's left the bathroom door conveniently unlocked. Not that keeping it locked would have stopped me from coming in. I turn the knob as quietly as I can and step inside. The air is hot and steamy; Draco's behind the glass shower door, eyes closed and water pouring down his head and body.

He snaps to attention as soon as I open the shower door and enter, glaring at me as if I were a house-elf interrupting his morning wank.

"You're invading my privacy, Potter."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" I run my hands down the sides of his torso and he stiffens under my touch. "Why else would you leave the door unlocked?"

"I must have forgotten," he mutters.

I bring my hands around to the front of his body and up to pinch his nipples, making him hiss. My erection is nudging his left buttock and it's all I can do not to slide it inside him.

"We made a deal," he says as I start to kiss his neck. "You got what you wanted, now leave me alone."

_Ouch_. His words sting, but I don't let it show. Instead I point out that I haven't entirely fulfilled my end of the bargain. "You've only lost half of your virginity."

He stops trying to pull away. "Half?"

"Mmhmm." I smirk into his shoulder. "One day you'll want to try out the other role, but you won't know what you're doing."

"Maybe I'm a natural," he says, but he sounds unconvinced.

"If you say so," I tell him with an exaggerated shrug. "But I've already prepared myself."

He spins around in my arms. "You _what_?"

I'm sure he heard, but I use the opportunity to tell him again, in more detail. "I covered my fingers with lube and pushed them up my tight arsehole to prepare myself for your cock."

_Was that a whimper I just heard?_

"If you've already prepared yourself, doesn't that take away from the learning experience for me?" he asks.

_Damn_ I hadn't thought of that. Trying to salvage my plan, I shrug nonchalantly again. "You can do it, too, if you want to practice." There's no harm in a second stretch, especially when one hasn't bottomed in years.

He looks into my eyes for a moment and I feel butterflies in my stomach. There's a tremor in his voice as he says, "This is the last time, Harry."

I nod softly even as my heart drops to the shower floor, and suddenly he's kissing me, sliding his tongue inside my mouth to caress mine. Already I'm allowing him to take control, to explore my mouth at his own pace. It feels good to surrender occasionally, and it has never felt better than right now, with him.

As his lips press harder against mine and his tongue moves deeper inside my mouth, I feel him reach around behind me. His fingertip circles and prods my entrance. It burns a little until he pushes past that resistant ring of muscle. Past that point, his finger glides in easily and I'm already parting my thighs.

He's thrusting his finger into me, angling it this way and that as he tries—I'm assuming— to find the spot that brought him such pleasure last night. It doesn't take him long.

I bury my head in his shoulder, clinging to him for support as weakness spreads to every muscle in my body. Something hard is pressed up against my belly; I reach between us and align our cocks while he adds another finger.

"Is this good?" he asks, rubbing me slowly from the inside.

"What do you think?" I say hoarsely, grinding against him.

He groans low in his throat. "I think I want to turn you around and fuck you into this wall."

His words entice the serpent at the base of my pelvis; it rises up, twisting and writhing until I'm aching for his cock. "Go for it," I say.

He pulls his fingers out of me and strokes his prick while I turn around and lean forward, supporting myself with my palms against the wet stone tiles on the wall.

"Ready?"

_Am I ready?_ To be honest, I'm not sure. There's a strange hollow feeling in my chest that makes me want to say I won't let him fuck me until he promises that this won't be the last time. But I'm not a girl. I won't do that.

"Yes," I reply. The word is barely out of my mouth before I feel the head of his cock pressing in between my buttocks. He pushes forward and _oh god, oh fuck_ he's inside me. I know I won't last long.

I start rocking against him right away, not caring about the discomfort. The slight burn actually feels really good.

Draco sighs appreciatively behind me as he begins to meet my thrusts. His hands are palming my arse; he lifts one and smacks my right cheek. I have to laugh—he never struck me as the spanking type. He must not be, because he laughs too and never does it again.

At least we managed to lighten the mood.

We shag slowly for a few minutes, then he grabs my hips and starts to thrust deeper, faster. I reach down and start wanking myself. His moans spur me on, and soon my hand is flying up and down my cock. He's saying dirty things about me, bloody virgin. Well—he isn't one anymore, obviously. You know what I mean.

"Yesss," Draco hisses, so that for a moment I think he's speaking Parseltongue. Those couple seconds are enough to send me over the edge.

I cry out his name as my knees buckle. My come splatters the wall and the floor, while my arse muscles clench down painfully on his pulsing cock.

He pulls out of me while I'm still recovering from my orgasm. That hollow feeling comes back and I try to quell it by telling myself he's leaving because it's time to go to work. But then I realise it isn't. Today is Sunday. I only set the alarm clock because I wanted to be awake before he had the chance to leave.

"Draco…" I say, still breathless.

"Potter—don't."

The finality of his tone shuts me up, and before I can think of my next move, he turns and Disapparates.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: I apologize for the ridiculous delay. I thought I posted all of the chapters.

Draco spent most of the morning eagerly answering questions about his recent misadventure. He likes attention, so it wasn't terribly uncharacteristic of him, but I'm pretty confident he was just jumping at the chance to stay away from me. Now he's got his head buried in his papers; he won't look up for a second. When I call his name, he pretends he doesn't hear me.

Well, if he won't talk to me, I expect he won't be interested in coming out with me to follow up on this new lead concerning Sylvester Brown's disappearance. He glances at me briefly as I pass by him on my way out, but makes no effort to find out what I'm doing. It's all right— I can handle this on my own.

I just woke up and it feels like the bed is spinning. Funny, I don't remember drinking. I open my eyes just enough to see through my lashes. It must be evening because shadows are dancing on the ceiling from the candlelight. _Where the hell am I?_

"Ah, you're awake, Auror Potter! Splendid."

I turn my head to look find the source of the enthusiastic voice. Bad idea. It didn't help the dizziness one bit. The Healer, who I'd seen just a few days ago after Draco had grown fairy wings, is smiling down at me in an infatuated fashion.

"You suffered an attack on the job, but you're going to be just—"

My stomach heaves and I manage lean over the side of the bed just in type to keep from puking all over myself.

"Ugh," says the Healer, looking down at his vomit-covered robes and shoes. He seems a tad less enamored as he spells himself and my mouth clean.

He hands me a vial of green potion. "Drink this. It'll help counter the dizziness and nausea."

I brace myself for some horrid bitter taste as I tip the bottle back and pour its contents into my mouth, but the potion tastes surprisingly pleasant, like a much milder, sweeter version of Absinthe. "What happened to me?" I ask, handing the empty vial back to the Healer.

"You went off on your own like a complete nutter, that's what happened!"

Even with all of its spitefulness and malice, that voice brought immediate warmth and comfort to my heart. I turn to look at Draco, who I haven't realised was sitting on the other side of the bed. "Nice to see you, Draco."

Draco glares at me while the Healer says, "Auror Malfoy will probably be better able to answer your questions. I'll leave you two alone for a while. Call me if you need anything."

Once the footsteps fade into the background, Draco unleashes his fury. "Are you _mental_? Robards has taken us off the case, _and_ he's threatened to let us both go if we don't get our acts together!"

"Well, excuse me, but you looked like you wanted to be left alone," I grumble.

"It's a job, Potter! We're trained Aurors, not first years. I'd have done my job, no matter what I wanted."

Brilliant—he just admitted that he really didn't want to be around me at all. Could be mutilate my heart any more?

"So what happened?"

Draco ignores me and reaches for something on the ground beside him. "Here, these are for you." He hands me a bouquet of exotic flowers.

"Who are they from?"

His lips form a tight line. "Me."

"Oh! Thank you, Draco, they're—"

He rolls his eyes. "Please, don't get all sentimental on me."

I keep my mouth shut as I place the vase on the bedside table, but inside, I am feeling a tad sentimental.

"You received a tip on a possible location where Sylvester Brown had been making and selling illegal potions," Draco says, looking at the wall opposite him. "So you went to find it. His apprentice was there and had set up a trap, fearful that whoever had abducted Brown would come to collect him as well.",

"What kind of trap?"

Draco shrugged. "Just a harmless Blackout Potion."

"And what of Brown?"

"I reckon they're interrogating his apprentice now," said Draco. "Most likely he refused to create some potion he thought would cause too much damage, but the customer wouldn't take no for an answer."

I nod. It sounds like a reasonable theory.

"Well, if you've no other questions—" Draco says, rising from his chair, "I guess I'll get going."

I grab his wrist to stop him from leaving. "I have a question."

His raised brows give him an annoyed, rather than a curious appearance. "What is it?"

"Will you—will you be my boyfriend?" I blurt out and promptly cringe. Talk about behaving like a first year.

He actually laughs. "Your _boyfriend_? I don't think you understand the concept, Potter. You see, it would mean you could only shag me for however long we were together."

"Okay." I pull on his wrist to get him to sit down on the bed. He doesn't.

"For more than a week or two, Potter."

I can't promise him any certain length of time, but I know that right now, I've no interest in pursuing anyone else for as long as I can imagine. Pulling more insistently on his wrist, I say, "Yes, longer than that. I only want you, Draco."

He gives in and sits down next to me. I reach up to the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. His mouth is soft, hesitant. My tongue caresses his lips, urging them to part. They do, and he starts kissing me back. My heart does that strange fluttering thing it always does when he and I are so close. Funnily, the gentler we are, the more intense the feeling gets.

Draco pulls back.

"What?" I ask when I notice that he's smiling against my mouth.

"I _do_ hope they'll release you tonight. I've found shagging to be rather addictive."

I grin. "They'll do anything I want—I'm Harry Potter."

The End


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